


Beauty And The Beast

by 2queer4here



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Choking, Dry Humping, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Painful Sex, Punching, Rough Body Play, Submissive Bellamy Blake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:48:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25204228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2queer4here/pseuds/2queer4here
Summary: Finding comfort in each other when your world is turned upside down.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Kudos: 20





	Beauty And The Beast

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen some allegations against Bellamy's actor come out on twitter; but this is not the place to bring them up and I will be deleting any comments that do. Thanks!

Bellamy is great at handling misdirected anger. Like Nate was. Like Nate had been for years while Clarke seethed and spat at him, dedicated to hating her former best friend with every piece of her being. The thought of Nate stokes the anger coursing through her and it feels like she has a fire roaring inside her stomach.

“Hey,” Bellamy brings her back to awareness, pretty brown eyes filled with nothing but knowing. He grabs her wrist gently and brings her hand to his throat leaving it up to her. Clarke looks into his eyes too afraid to ask if she can still have this, but for all people say you can see what people want in their eyes the blonde can’t tell if Bellamy still wants this. But his earlier guiding and his stillness as she opens her palm to cup his throat and _press_ is good enough.

Clarke knows enough to know that some people do this as a sex thing. Get off to it. But that’s not what she’s after. Clarke doesn’t want sex, she wants violence, and pain, and for something around their camp to look just as hideous as she feels inside.

She reimagines her hurt onto him.

Anger becomes the oppressive choking force of her hand on Bellamy’s throat until he’s squirming in discomfort. Depression that’s been swelling in her brain since they became aware of the Grounders bursts as reddened soon-to-be bruises from where her unoccupied hand punches him. His stomach, his arm, his thigh. Pain at the loss of her father and Nate spills onto Bellamy’s face as Clarke cries over him, her tears splashing down onto him.

She doesn’t realize she’s grinding against him until Bellamy wiggles his legs enough for her to take the hint to lift herself up so he can reposition himself. Clarke has half the mind to be embarrassed until Bellamy spreads his legs and bends them at his knees. He holds himself steady with a hand to the back of each knee and waits.

Oh.

So she does want this too.

She anchors her left hand to his throat again and grinds against him like he is the girl and she is the boy. The embarrassment and shame she’s felt for her shortcomings these past hellish months are now transferred to the boy under her. Each grind of her pelvis against his ass is her becoming stronger and more in control. He’s the one who is humiliated now, not her. He’s the stupid slut spreading himself open like a bitch, he’s the pretty face with no brain, he’s the one fucking everything up.

Clarke cums with surprising force gripping Bellamy’s hips tight. Bellamy uncurls his legs to wrap around Clarke’s waist. _Damn he’s good_ , she thinks absentmindedly. Bellamy lets her sag against him as her hips jerk sporadically from aftershock.

Clarke sits up looking down at the mess she’s made of him. Wrinkled shirt, dark stained neck, even a split lip. Bruises dot his exposed arms like flowers on a vine and are just as beautiful. She feels embarrassed again but this time it is for a different reason and it feels manageable now. Not something that will build.

Bellamy focuses brown eyes on her face, nodding when Clarke pats his thigh. He moves into a seated position, shrugging back on his jacket before walking over to the opening of the tent and peering out.

“Gonna go before it gets any lighter outside so people don’t notice…” He stops to gesture at his neck with a small smile. A two finger salute completes his goodbye and once again Bellamy is slipping away through the night.

Clarke finds an old shirt of hers that needs washing anyway and uses it to clean herself up. She lays down feeling the hard ground beneath her back, the slight sting that her cot can’t hide, and feels a settling peace take over.

Damn, Bellamy Blake is good.


End file.
